


Nightmare Remedy

by InterstellarVagabond, MyKindOfCrazy



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Collaboration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 20:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19325695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyKindOfCrazy/pseuds/MyKindOfCrazy
Summary: "Crowley? Heavens it's late! Aren't you one to sleep at this hour?" Aziraphale questioned his friend.There was a long pause, only Crowley's breathing coming across the line."I needed to know you were alright." The demon finally confessed. The words were soft, something that could have easily been drowned out by the rain if Aziraphale hadn't been listening closely enough."I assure you I am... Are you?"In which Crowley's nightmares following the burning of Aziraphale's bookshop finally get the best of him, and make him admit to a little emotional vulnerability.





	Nightmare Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> another collab born of headcanon talks in mine and nonbinarydisaster's tumblr dms. Hope you enjoy!

Aziraphale quite liked the sound of the rain. As much as storms could be frightening, especially the ones Adam caused on accident, normal weather was something Aziraphale liked. 

Thunder rolled in the distance, rain droplets hit the roof in an even tempo. If he was keen on sleeping, he would have. 

Aziraphale turned the page to his book. Nearly every book in his shop he'd read hundreds of times, but it never bored him. His books were a familiar comfort, the words helping to settle him as he fell for the story he read over and over again. 

The angel suddenly jolted as the phone rang somewhere off in the book shop. Glancing at his antique clock he saw it was nearly two in the morning. Surely it was a mis dial of some drunken human. 

The phone stopped and Aziraphale tried to find where he'd left off- only for the phone to start again. 

He sighed, placing a bookmark within the worn pages and setting his book aside as he stood. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey angel." 

"Crowley? Heavens it's late! Aren't you one to sleep at this hour?" Aziraphale questioned his friend. 

There was a long pause, only Crowley's breathing coming across the line. 

"I needed to know you were alright." The demon finally confessed. The words were soft, something that could have easily been drowned out by the rain if Aziraphale hadn't been listening closely enough. 

"I assure you I am... Are you?" 

There's another long stretch of silence, and after so many centuries Aziraphale knew better than to expect a truthful answer to that question. 

"You know, I heard of this lovely diner on seventh street. It's only been open a mere half a decade and I haven't had the chance to go! Word is the food is horrible but the coffee and cake are to die for. They're open twenty four hours, would you accompany me? I'm feeling a bit peckish." 

Crowley chuckled on the other end of the line, but it was wrong. A broken, tired sound. It hurt Aziraphale's heart to hear. 

"Sure thing angel. Meet you there in twenty."

 

He finds Crowley lurking outside the diner, standing in the flickering light of a street lamp which only served to highlight how pale he looked. The poor thing couldn’t help but lurk, a demon could step into a line of people and wait just as patiently and professionally as the rest of them and still be lurking somehow. Though, Aziraphale suspected Crowley was putting a bit of effort into it tonight, hunched over in a big dark coat and peering out over his sunglasses with a sort of nervous energy.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” Aziraphale said, marveling slightly at how the light drizzle of rain curled Crowley’s hair in the most endearing way.

“Nope,” Crowley said, a little too loudly as he straightened up. “No. Well uh… shall we?”

Aziraphale nodded and gestured for Crowley to go first, then hurrying to get the door for him. The lack of snide remark about angelic manners was his first clue that whatever strange mood had gripped his friend that night had yet to dissipate. 

They made a strange pair, as they always did, tucked away in a booth in the corner of the diner. The waitress didn’t remark on their clashing styles though, she didn’t say much of anything beyond a grunt here and there or an inquiry about what drinks they might like. Aziraphale ordered a hot chocolate and a slice of the aforementioned cake, and Crowley ordered a black coffee. 

The coffee was drained and refilled again and still Crowley sat in silence. Aziraphale studied his friend closely, worry starting to come over him.

The bodies they wore were not quite human. They could do human things, they suffered many human weaknesses though not all. They did not need to sleep, but that didn’t mean they could not tire, and Crowley looked positively worn out.

Aziraphale reached out to cup Crowley’s hands, which in turn cupped the warm mug of coffee.

“You seem exhausted, my dear…” he said softly.

He expected some sarcasm, perhaps a jab at his powers of observation. Instead, Crowley just sighed and turned his hands away from the mug so they instead held Aziraphale’s hands. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked.

“Come home with me,” Crowley said suddenly, bringing a flush to Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Crowley!” he said again, his tone now quite different.

“No, not like… not like that,” Crowley said. “I mean… maybe later. Look, just come stay with me tonight, alright?”

“... what’s this about?” Aziraphale asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Crowley answered, adjusting his sunglasses to better hide his eyes. “Please. Just as… as a favor to me.”

“Well… alright then,” Aziraphale said. “I trust you have a good reason.”

When the bill was settled they walked to Crowley’s car, and rode to his flat in complete silence. 

Aziraphale worried he might have to support his friend as they crossed the threshold. He was swaying slightly, and was quick to find his way to the couch where he lay himself bodily down. 

Aziraphale stepped quietly closer, and decided to take a risk and remove Crowley’s sunglasses.

The demon did not try to stop him, though he did avert his gaze. It did nothing to hide the red rimmed eyes and the dark circles beneath. 

“You’ve been crying,” Aziraphale said, taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

“Yes,” Crowley said, sounding impatient with himself. “I’ve been crying.”

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Aziraphale pleaded. “I want to help.”

“You’re helping enough being here,” Crowley said. “Don’t make me talk about my feelings while we’re at it.”

“I think I’m owed an explanation at this point,” Aziraphale said, drawing himself up higher and staring Crowley down with a stern look. 

“Just go home if you think I’m being unfair,” Crowley huffed, but a few more seconds under the angel’s stare broke him. “I just… I want to be sure you’re safe.”

“Safe? What are you worried about?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Losing you, obviously,” Crowley said, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. “Your bookshop burned to the ground, and then I didn’t hear from you for so long I thought maybe you weren’t just discoporated I… I thought you were dead, permanently.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said.

“I don’t need that,” Crowley hissed. “I don’t need your sympathy I just... I just need you here so that when I wake up from another nightmare I can convince myself everything is fine.”

Aziraphale sat quietly for a moment, before he began removing his jacket and bowtie.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked. 

“Making myself comfortable,” Aziraphale said, folding his jacket neatly and setting it on the nearby coffee table. He then lay forward, throwing his arms about Crowley’s neck and settling himself half on top of the demon. “I’m a bit out of practice with this sleeping thing, you may have to help me.”

“You…” Crowley chuckled. “You think we’re going to sleep out here on the couch?”

“You were already laying down, I think it was a safe assumption!” Aziraphale huffed. 

“You don’t even have to sleep, you know,” Crowley said. “You can just… I have books, you can sit and read while I sleep.”

“I think not,” Aziraphale said. “It sounds to me like tonight you need a guar-”

“Don’t say it.”

“A guardian angel.”

“I regret inviting you into my home.”

“I’m going to stay close to you tonight,” Aziraphale said, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. 

A crooked smile found its way to Crowley’s lips. He turned his face towards the hand and pressed a slow kiss to Aziraphale’s palm. 

“Well then let me up so I can show you the bedroom,” he said.

Aziraphale was soft and he was warm, and it had been some time since Crowley was in heaven but he imagined it couldn’t be better than resting his head on Aziraphale’s chest and feeling his arms encircle him. 

The thought was embarrassing, he could never admit to it, but he was shameless enough to bury his face in the angel’s chest and sigh with contentment. The kiss he felt at the top of his head sealed the deal, and he was blissfully asleep in minutes. 

When the nightmare came again, he woke able to pull Aziraphale in tight. During the initial panic he actually almost suffocated the angel with his tight grip, and a pair of frantically manifested wings. Aziraphale was quick to forgive, of course as he always was. He was also quick to lull Crowley back to sleep.


End file.
